


C'est la vie

by Wind_Ryder



Series: Farm Verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abused Animals in Good Homes, Evil Goat, Happiness on a Farm, John is Snow White, Kind Cow, Never Ending, Tumblr Prompts, When Bad Things Happen Farm Fic Will Be Updated, bliss, farm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 19,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Ryder/pseuds/Wind_Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Laurens and Lafayette buy a farm. </p><p>They're really happy there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kitty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Non-Stop](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5626945) by [writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle (twoandahalfslytherins)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandahalfslytherins/pseuds/writelikeitsgoingoutofstyle). 



> This is a series of one shots that are all loosely connected. I had them posted on my Tumblr, but a few people have asked about them, so I moved them here. This is never-ending. Please prompt me and I will post more. 
> 
> If you have an idea, let me know. This is where the fluff happens. 
> 
> All stories are loosely related to my previous Non-Stop AU fics.

John has to be at work by nine. So he wakes up at four. Lafayette rolls over. Burrowing his head in his pillow so he didn’t have to listen to John getting up. He hates John’s schedule and everything that came with it. Doesn’t mind the kiss John gives him on the cheek before he heads out on his pre-dawn (bullshit) run, though.

John’s got a system in place. Wake up at four. Run for two miles with Bert and Ernie. Check on Milch and Satan. Feed them both. Then come inside and feed the dogs before taking a shower. Getting dressed. Making breakfast. Eating, and leaving. He always stops in for another kiss. Bringing Bert and Ernie with him so they can jump on the bed and leave hair everywhere.

No matter how many time Lafayette tells them to get off, they don’t listen. They just curl up in tight balls and go to sleep on John’s pillow. Occasionally muddying the sheets from their run. Which means Lafayette has to do laundry when he gets up. 

Between four and seven-thirty, Lafayette dozes. Refusing to get out of bed just yet, but hyper aware that John’s gone. When he doesn’t hear the front door open when it should, and the dogs don’t get in the way like they always do, Lafayette gets up. Peers out the window to look over the property.

There’s a light on in the barn. Shadows moving this way and that. He can see Bert sniffing at a fence post. Ernie not too far behind. If John hasn’t left the barn yet, something’s caught his attention. And he’s going to be late.

Sighing, Lafayette drags on some clothes. Descends the stairs and makes his way across the gravel drive. Bert rushes towards him. Mouth spread wide in a big toothless grin. One good eye wide and affectionate. Lafayette pats him on the head. Doesn’t bother calling Ernie over. Ernie’s John’s through and through, and Lafayette isn’t interested in playing sides right now.

He left the cookies in the house anyway.

Stepping through the barn door, he looks about. Spots Milch in her stall head ducked too low to see above the partition. John’s kneeling down in the stall entrance. Knees pressed in against the cold concrete and hay. He’s murmuring quietly.

The way he does with everyone on this farm. (“Everyone,” John insisted. “They’re independent spirits. Not  _ things. _ ” Lafayette doesn’t have it in him to argue.)

“Mon amour?” Lafayette asks, drifting closer. “You’re running late.” He peers over John’s shoulder.

Frowns.

There’s a…cat? In John’s lap. Milch’s nose pressed against it’s back. Nudging it occasionally. “Where’d that come from?” Lafayette asks next. Still waiting for a response. John’s got scratches on the back of his hands. Blood dripping onto the hay. He never notices when one of the animals hurt him. Lafayette’s half convinced he doesn’t feel it.

Years of practice getting hit, John sometimes needs someone to point out injuries.  _ Ridiculous child.  _  Stroking the cat’s fur, John’s got it trapped by the nape of it’s neck. “Yeah I’ll call in,” John says. He never calls in. He’s obsessive about going to work.

Hell, his director threatened him with a year’s sabbatical if he didn’t take some time off eventually. John hadn’t been impressed. Had even gone so far as to remind the man of the important research on the cuttlefish John’s been conducting.

Because there’s important research on cuttlefish to be had. Clearly. Lafayette rolled his eyes when John told it to him then. He’s rolling his eyes now.  _ “Reeeally,”  _ he drawls.

“Milch found her.”

Lafayette sighs. Settles in next to John. Peers down at the cat. It’s a small little thing. Abandoned most likely if mama’s not around anywhere. Lafayette can’t remember seeing an adult cat anyway. It’s mean as a snake, so it’ll fit right in with Satan. Though it seems to arc into Milch’s nose. Seems to meow and purr at the cow like it’s imprinted.

“What are we calling this one?” he asks. Bert farts exceptionally loudly. His tongue rolls out of his mouth. Panting. Drool slides from between his teeth. Ernie starts lapping it up.

Somewhere, on the other end of the farm, Satan is ramming his horns into a fence post. Showing off how menacing he is. They’ve collected a strange assortment of live ins. John’s even got a snapping turtle in the back pond. One that comes up for carrots and treats.

Lafayette’s long since given up complaining about them all. He’s sufficiently outnumbered.

“Don’t know yet,” John hums. “I need to get her to the vet. Check her out. Probably has FIV.”

“Oh?”

“Most strays do.” He coos at the kitten even as it bites into his thumb. Drawing blood. Milch larps the side of the kitten’s head. Smearing fur up its face. Squishing its eyes together. John smiles.

“Always knew Kitty’d find her way into your heart,” Lafayette teased. Leaning over to kiss John’s cheek. John tilts his head into it. Smiling faintly as Lafayette stands up. “I’ll feed the dogs.”

He whistles, this time making sure Ernie’s coming, and starts making a mental list of what they’ll need to get.

Food. Blankets. Dishes. More vet bills.

Oh well.

_ C’est la vie. _


	2. Bert and Ernie

“I just don’t know what to do,” Annie says. She’s biting the nail on her left thumb. Rolling her lips around it. Occasionally tearing at her cuticle. “They don’t want to be separated. And getting  _ one  _ pit adopted is rough. But two? Especially two like them?” 

John thinks she might be being a little hard on them. The two dogs are cute. Big squishy faces with jowls that hang for miles. Bert’s got a missing eye. Ernie only has three legs. They curl around each other. Scars bright on display. Ears cropped. Tails gone. 

Okay. Maybe  _ cute  _ isn’t the best word for them. 

But he drops down into a crouch. Holds his hand toward them. Waits for Ernie to take a step forward to sniff. “I don’t know how you do it,” Annie murmurs. She’s staring at him with wide eyes. He can just see her expression in his peripheral. “No one’s been able to get near them for days. Not since the cops brought them over. Like we’re equipped for something like this.” 

“What happened to their last owners?” John asks. Ernie’s pushing his nose against John’s fingers now, and he lets himself move his hand over to scratch the dog’s lumpy muzzle. 

“Arrested. There’s gonna be a trial in May.” 

They’ve seen this before. Annie and John. If the perps are rich, they’ll get off with a fine. If they’re well represented, they probably could make out with community service. There’s a lot of prosecutors lining up to take down scum bags like these. But the court wants them out of their hair faster than the fleas on the very dogs they’d been abusing. 

“They said the fights were brutal. Bert…Bert probably killed some.”   

Bert’s a tough looking dog. Keeps eyeing John suspiciously. But John smiles at him. Holds out his other hand for Bert to sniff. It takes nearly five minutes of Ernie getting closer and closer before Bert moves. Jaws snapping out and biting down  _ hard _ on John’s arm. 

Annie shrieks. John doesn’t. He can feel his hand going numb. He can feel the pain cascading through him. But he just sits there. Looks Bert in the eye. Waits him out. “It’s okay, buddy. It’s okay.” 

Pit-bulls can exert a bite pressure of up to 235PSI. Bert? Hadn’t even broken the bone. It’s a warning bite. A threat. Meant to hurt. Meant to show him what  _ could  _ have happened. 

John sees Bert. 

And John’s not afraid. 

The jaws release. Bert whines. There’s blood dripping on the floor between them, and John knows he’ll need to drive out to the hospital after he’s done here. Maybe he’ll see if Eliza will give him a house call instead. He doesn’t want to leave them at the Farm alone. And Lafayette’s not going to like this idea too much as it is. 

Looking up at Annie, John smiles. “I’ll take them both.”

She looks like she’s going to faint, but they’ve been here before. With Satan. With Milch. Abused farm animals are one thing. Dogs? Something different. But John’s still the one that she calls when things go wrong and she’s left with a mess she can’t handle.

While she goes to get the paperwork settled, John sits down in the pen with Bert and Ernie. Ernie curls up against his legs. Bert watches him warily. “Laf’s gonna love you,” John promises. “He’s got a thing for strays who bite first and ask questions later.”

Bert farts loudly.

John can’t wait for them to meet.


	3. Bert, Ernie, and Laf

Lafayette respects John’s job. He embraces it. Understands the hard work that John puts into it, and the struggle that John’s gone through to get where he is today. He’s gone through all the courses, earned that Ph.D. next to his name, earned the space on the boat that goes out to sea for excursions. The scholarship written on their tables, the books stacked by the bed — John’s worked for it all. And Lafayette respects it. 

He does. 

It’s just. 

Lafayette hates it when John leaves. 

The bag’s packed. “It’s only for a few days,” John says. “Rebecca said this is the closest the school’s been in years.” Lafayette nods. Watches as John slips on one of his more comfortable traveling shirts. John’s fingers move to adjust the chain around his neck. Rotating the small pendant so it sits perfect. Clasp out of sight behind his hair. 

“You will call in?” He confirms. Sometimes John can’t. Sometimes he’s too far out, or there’s not enough time. He’ll leave a message with his HQ and they’ll send over an email giving Lafayette the all clear. 

“Yep. Every day.” John leans forward. Kisses him. “You gonna be okay here with the dorks?” Bert and Ernie both look up from where they’ve already made a home on John’s side of the bed. 

“ _ They’re  _ not who I’m worried about,” Lafayette mutters. 

“I can get Gabby to stop by and look after Satan.” He doesn’t offer the same for Milch or the horses.  _ Those  _ Lafayette actually enjoys looking after. Milch is easy going and the horses are affectionate. He’s fine with them. Knows exactly what to do. 

Even Bert and Ernie Lafayette’s managed to figure out. 

But  _ Satan.  _

“I’m sure we can manage,” he informs John, choosing to ignore the speculative look John gives him in return. 

“Good luck,” John says. Stealing another kiss before patting the pit bulls on the belly. Bert rolls on his back. Ernie whines. 

But John leaves, and within a few minutes — his car is pulling out of the driveway. Ernie throws himself off the bed and runs to the window. Watching as John’s Volvo disappears down the road. The whining starts immediately. High pitched whimpers squealing up. Ernie paces. Window to window. Looking outside in the hopes that the SUV will be turning around soon. That John will come back. 

“Come on, let’s go check on the demon, oui?” Lafayette asks. Ernie whimpers even louder. Still staring out the window. Bert rolls off the bed and clicks his way across the tile to Lafayette’s side. 

Of all of them, Bert’s Lafayette’s favorite. He’s all piss and vinegar, and he’s such a great cuddler. But Ernie? Ernie’s anxious and scared. Always looking for John like he’s the answer to the world’s problems. 

John will take him to the office sometimes. Let Ernie sprawl out on his feet while he checks databases and fish. Gets fat on cookies and biscuits. Three legs strethced froglike in all directions as he chomps away. John’s colleagues love him. Think he’s just darling. And Ernie laps up their attention. 

But the moment John’s out of sight? 

He’s a wreck. 

Lafayette whistles again. Sharper this time. Ernie lets out a mournful howl. Long and miserable. He trots to Lafayette’s side, though. Whimpering and whining for attention. Lafayette pets his scarred fur, and hooks a collar to his leash. 

Even so, the moment they step outside, Ernie rushes down the drive. Clotheslining himself when the leash snaps taught. He whines again, howling into the wind. Bert growls. Shifting his feet. Looking from Lafayette to Ernie. 

Bert does not like it when Ernie is upset. 

“C’mon,  _ petit. Mon amour  _ will return soon.” Ernie howls again. Lafayette walks toward him and crouches down. Slowly stroking the dog’s head as he looks frantically towards the direction John left, and Lafayette’s face. “We shall miss him together,  _ oui?”  _ He asks. Ernie howls once more, sobbing in his own doggy way, but stops pulling when Lafayette walks him away. Leading him toward the goat pen. “And in the meantime...we shall have to agree not to exorcise John’s demon while he is gone.” 

Satan looks up as they approach. His front hoof scratches against the dir. His shoulders duck low. He charges, and runs straight at them. Smashing his head against the gate that separated them all. 

Ernie’s whines have stopped short. Bert plops his butt on the ground to watch this cantankerous goat as it winds up for another strike. They both look up at Lafayette as the goat smashes his head into the fence. “I do not understand him either,” Lafayette explains. 

The sun is setting, John is gone, and the three of them watch. 

Satan keeps attacking. 

And the world spins on. 

It always does. 


	4. Satan

The house comes with a goat. 

John hums as they go through their tour of the property and grounds. There’s a clamoring sound that bangs loudly in the distance, and the real estate agent adjusts his bow-tie as they approach the pasture. “Well, that’s Precious,” Jacobs-Smith introduces. 

The goat is jet black. Beard and horns long. Golden eyes narrowed hatefully. Lafayette leans towards John. “Looks like Alex after after his baking’s gone wrong,” and John snorts. It’s true. Hair standing out on its ends, Precious looks more than a little...ruffled. 

“He’s...not polite?” Jacobs-Smith tries as John shifts closer. John holds his hand out to the goat. Just to be contrary, he walks over and lightly buts John’s hand. Even gives the real estate agent a look. As if to say,  _ I can be perfectly polite when I chose to be.  _

Jacobs-Smith adjusts the bow-tie again. “You said this was a rescue farm?” Lafayette asks. “This was...one of the inhabitants?” 

“Yes. Eh. From what I recall, Precious was kept in a hoarding situation. Lots of other goats side by side. Got into a habit of plowing into people. Kind of an aggressive thing? Got sent to Maureen because she had a knack for helping out all kinds of animals in need. When Maureen died, her will stated that all animals were to remain a part of her estate, or relocated to a better home. Precious is the last hold out. We’re still trying to relocate him, but because of his unique...scenario...” Jacobs-Smith trailed off nervously.  

“He’s fine,” John says. Running a hand over the horns. “We’ll take him.” 

“ _ Him,  _ mon amour?” Lafayette asks. 

“It,” John corrects. “The property. The house. We’ll take it.” 

Jacobs-Smith glances at Lafayette. He shrugs. “Where do I sign?” 

***

They take their time moving in. John studies up on goats and learns proper care and handling. He takes a trip down to the barn every day after the paperwork been completed. Spending time with Precious and brushing his fur free from mud and debris. He goes for walks around the pasture. Precious follows him. Chases him. Enjoys running with him if John feels up to it. 

It’s really not until John’s busy trying to set up a bookshelf that Lafayette has a problem. “Shit, I forgot to feed the goat,” John realizes. Lafayette looks over at him from where he’s reading a book. “You mind getting him?” 

“What do I do?” John explains quickly, and Lafayette shrugs. Goes to tend to the goat. 

It’s only a few minutes later when John can start hearing cursing. There’s a thud. A shout. John drops the shelf he’d been trying to wrangle into place, and rushes to the door. Peers out to see Precious digging one hoof into the ground like a steer before running straight toward Lafayette. 

Lafayette trips backwards. Is already covered in dirt. Must have fallen a few times before. But he trips now. Scrambling to avoid getting hit. Doesn’t quite manage it. He’s hit in the side. Bleated at as Precious backs off for another charge. 

John runs forward. Waving his arm at the goat. “Shoo!” Precious shoos. Looks at John like he’s the sun in the sky, and promptly stops moving. Tilting his head left and right. Oblivious as Lafayette finally gets up on his feet. “You all right?” John asks, helping Lafayette scramble over the wooden fence. 

“ _ Precious _ ,” Lafayette snaps. “Is  _ Satan.”  _ He stalks off to the house. Pride wounded and side aching. He rubs at it for the rest of the day. Moaning and whining until John makes him dinner. 

“He’s being dramatic,” John tells Alex on the phone later that night. “He’s just being a baby about the whole thing.” 

“Awe, can’t wait to meet him!” Alex laughs. 

And in the next few days, he does. 

***

Alex, Madison, and Burr come over for the tour not long after John and Lafayette settle in. 

John happily shows them about. This is the bedroom. The living room. The kitchen. The guest bedroom. This is the play room (Lafayette waggles his brows, Burr rolls his eyes). This is the garage. This is the barn. 

This is Precious. 

Alex runs to the goat and babbles to it. Cooing and aweing. He pets Precious’ sides. Strokes his horns. Scratches his chin. Precious preens. Nods his head in adulation. When Madison goes to do the same, it’s like a switch is flipped. One moment Precious is cuddling sweet as can be, the next he’s running at Madison. Bashing his head into Madison’s chest. Knocking him to the ground. 

“I’m telling you, that goat is  _ possessed!”  _ Madison argues as John wraps bandages around his chest. 

“I’m telling  _ you,  _ that the goat is not possessed. It’s fine.” 

Apparently, no one believed John or Alex. The next day, Precious has a new sign tacked onto the fence post. His name’s been changed to ‘Satan’ and Lafayette refuses to stop calling him that. 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m not.” Lafayette crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You really are.” 

“He is not to be trusted, mon amour. I am giving him the proper signage. Do you not do that with dogs?” 

“What, you want a beware of goat sign?” That sounds absurd. But Lafayette’s nodding. 

“It’s appropriate.” 

“It’s really. Really. Not.”

***

“We could get rid of him,” John suggests as he wraps Lafayette’s ankle for the fourth time this year. He’d twisted it trying to escape Satan. They can still hear him smashing his horns against the fence post in frustration. Unhappy at being denied his prey. “Find someone who’ll take him in.” 

Lafayette snorts. “No one would  _ ever  _ take that goat in.” A vicious sounding bleat echoes through the grounds. “Keep him. He’s yours.” 

John snorts. “I’ll try to spare you feeding responsibilities.” 

It’s the least he can do. 


	5. Francine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Francine comes from "Domestic Life Was Never Quite My Style"

“Francine Laurens get back here this instant!” John shouts.  _ Sixteen.  _ He was  _ not  _ this much trouble at sixteen. 

He was quiet. Withdrawn. Desperate to please. 

He was  _ not  _ an argumentative brat who didn’t listen to anyone. A door slams in John’s face, and he just barely stops in time from walking into it. Furious, he throws it open. Stomps inside. 

Lafayette’s sitting on the couch. Open book held limply between his hands. He’s staring up at their daughter. Eyes wide. Francine is signing fast. Occasionally speaking words to prove her point. 

John heard enough of her tirade outside. He can get the gist without seeing all her signs. 

Pot’s being an ass. Pot’s being rude. Pot doesn’t care about my feelings. Pot’s a controlling bastard. 

“I...see.” Lafayette seems torn between laughing and frowning. He never did know which person to support when John and Francine argued. Usually he just called them similar and stayed out of it. 

“I’m  _ not  _ being an ass. You can’t ride Achilles without a helmet.” 

_ Don’t like feeling!  _ Francine signs, stamping her foot.  _ Head hurts!  _

John has no problem signing right back,  _ Don’t like bringing you hospital!  _

_ Fuck you!  _

“Frances. Language,  _ s’il te plait, _ ” Lafayette scolds. 

_ Achilles spooks, _ John continues.  _ You fall. You hurt.  _ He brings his hand to his chest and rubs his heart.  _ Scare me.  _

_ Do when you gone. _

That’s...surprisingly brazen of her. John’s not quite sure he understood the signs right to be honest. His hands falter somewhat.  _ What?  _ he signs. She scowls. 

_ Go sea. No want you. Never want you. You don’t understand. Never help.  _

John presses his lips tight. That’s not fair. She’s not being fair. He’s doing the best he can. He knows the helmet makes her head hurt. Knows it’s uncomfortable. But Laf had been thrown by the same horse Francine was so desperate to ride without a helmet. Had broken his arm in two places and even with a helmet had been knocked out by the fall. His helmet had a dent in the side from where he’d knocked it against a tree. 

It could have been so much worse. 

“I just want you to be safe,” he mumbles. 

_ Don’t care. Don’t want you.  _

She turns toward Lafayette, ready to sign more, but whatever acceptance she expected from  _ him  _ has long since dried up. Lafayette’s expression is stormy. He settles his book to the side and stands up. 

John’s arms wrap around his stomach. He hasn’t felt so out of place a long time. “Collect your books,” Lafayette tells Francine shortly. Her mouth falls open. 

“No,” she says. Lafayette grins. 

“Collect your books,” he signs while he speaks. Drawling each word slowly. Accent thicker than it had been in years. “Or I will.” It’s a double edged sword. 

If she collected them herself, she had a chance to hide whichever one she wanted and keep it with her. If he did it...she’d have none. John isn’t sure grounding her right now is going to make this better, but Lafayette isn’t in the mood. 

She overstepped. Even John knows that. 

Francine weighs her options. 

And makes the wrong choice. 

_ Not my fault! Pot started it! _

_Don’t care,_ _don’t care, don’t care._ The motion is a simple one. Pinch the air in front of the nose then toss it away. Lafayette repeats it a few times before making a motion towards her arm. _Go. or I go._

Francine lets out a screech. Stamps her feet again. Screeches even as she stomps past John. Shoulder checking him out of the way. John stumbles back. One step. Two. 

He falls to a stop and watches her go. Flinches a little when Lafayette approaches. Slides a hand along his back. “She’s being a child,” Lafayette tells John quietly. “She does not mean it.” 

“She’s  _ my  _ child,” John mutters. “She means it.” 

“Then stay for me,” Lafayette requests. Kissing the side of John’s head. He reaches up and tangles his fingers around the anchor necklace John wears every day. “Stay because this is our home. And we just happen to cohabitate with a teenager at the moment.” 

“Yeah. A  _ teenager. _ ” 

Satan slams his horns into a fence post. “We can always let the goat guard the horses.” John snorts. No way Francine is sneaking onto Achilles with Satan playing guard. “When’s your next dive?” 

“Couple weeks.” Lafayette hums. Kisses his head again. 

“We will find something that works before then.” John just sighs. He doubts it. But it’s a nice thought.  “And I will not let her ride without a helmet when you’re gone. She will  _ not  _ like it if she does.” 

John huffs. “Good luck.” He’s going to need it.


	6. Maman, Père, and Pierre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laf's family come from "Domestic Life Was Never Quite My Style"

Pierre….is not impressed. 

He’s sneering openly. Arms crossed in front of his chest. Lips curling. Shoulders stiff. He’s so dissatisfied that Lafayette casts a glance at John. Nervous that he’s going to take it the wrong way. He doesn’t. 

“Not for you?” John asks, snatching a couple of bags from the car. Maman and Père have decided to go all out as usually. Cowboy boots. Jackets. Hats. They look like they stepped out of Country Outfitter’s magazine, and they’re both smiling so bright Lafayette wants to gag.

Pierre looks at John like he’s seen the end of the world. “Not. At. All.” His nose wrinkles. Smelling the scent of the farm. 

Lafayette grins wide. Slides right over to him and throws an arm around his shoulder. “Are we unhappy?” he asks brightly. 

_ “We  _ will be much happier once you tell us the wi-fi password.” Standing in the driveway in loafers and slacks, silk vest still in place over his pressed shift, Pierre looked terribly out of place. 

“Wi-fi?” Lafayette sends John a panicked look. John rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t listen to him,  _ Oncle,”  _ John tells Pierre. “We have wi-fi.”

The look of disgust on Pierre’s face could not be quantified. He strides past Lafayette and into the house. Following his “favorite son” into the house, and asking him where he can go to forget he’s here. John doesn’t even seem to bat an eye. Just leads him to a room that has the worst view in the whole house. Aimed at the driveway and little else. 

Bert and Ernie rub their furry bodies along Pierre’s slacks as he walks, and every step seems like an exercise in futility. Lafayette’s struggling not to laugh as Pierre’s neck tightens and his hand clench at his sides. 

_ “He’s not used to this,”  _ Maman sighs.  _ “Poor boy.”  _

_ “He’s nearly fifty, mother,”  _ Lafayette replies.  _ “He is not a boy.”  _

_ “And yet Alex calls you Papa, no?”  _ Père asks without missing a beat. 

Lafayette flushes. Once. Alex called Lafayette Papa  _ once.  _ How the fuck did they find out about that? His parents join arms. Hooked at the elbows, and march deeper into the house. 

John wanders out of the room Pierre’s locked himself into, smiling and laughing under his breath. “I don’t think he like sit here,” he snorts. 

“It’s the goat, isn’t it?” Lafayette sighs. 

“It’s always the goat.” John laughs. 

They find Lafayette’s parents in the living room. Making themselves at home. Bert and Ernie ar settled between them. Tongues rolling out of their mouths as they nuzzle against Maman and Père's hands. Perfectly content.  _ “I must say, your decor is lovely,”  _ Maman informs brightly. 

John snorts. Lafayette had bent John over every piece of furniture. Taken him apart and put him back together against each wall. Alex had been sprawled between them. Aaron and Madison had occasionally joined in. 

Their  _ decor _ was functional. As well as aesthetically pleasing. You’d think they were still teenagers with how much use this house gave them.  _ “We chose everything ourselves,”  _ John replies in slow, textbook French. French never rolled off John’s tongue as elegantly as Spanish did. But it still sounded nice. He’d worked hard at it. And Lafayette’s parents certainly approved. 

_ “I’m sure you did,”  _ Père says calmly. Lafayette hates it when he does this. He’s accepted his parents’ relationship with Pierre. Accepted that there’s a reason  _ his  _ interest lie the way they do. But they don’t need to rub it in his face. 

His parents smile at each other. 

It’s just inappropriate. 

Huffing, Lafayette crosses his arms over his chest.  _ “Anything you’d like to do while you’re here?”  _ he asks. 

Pierre’s a lost cause. He’ll be in his bedroom texting and reading for the entirety of the trip. If he dared to leave the confines of the room, he certainly wouldn’t be leaving the house. His loafers were worth more than all the animals in the farm. And considering how priceless John valued them, Lafayette knew those loafers cost a pretty penny. 

Père requests a tour, and so Lafayette and John start leading them about the house. The grounds. Milch the cow plods over at John’s sharp whistle. Kitty is curled up on her rump, sleeping soundly. Not a care in the world. 

Satan stampedes and attacks the fence full force. Neither Maman or Père are amused, and Lafayette laments the fact Pierre’s not willing to explore. The look of horror on his face would have been  _ perfect.  _

John tells them the story of how they got all the animals. Motions towards Achilles, their twenty year old Morgan who whinneys at them as they approach. There’s an Arabian too, John explains. But she’s usually on the back pasture. Doesn’t like Achilles too much. Her name is Diana. Maman likes that. 

The pond is one of John’s favorite places to go. “I go for a run every morning with the dogs,” he says. “We stop by here on the way back.” 

_ “What’s that?”  _ Maman asks suddenly, pointing to a black shape in the pond. 

_ “Ah! That’s Edgar!”  _ John says brightly. He goes to the water’s edge. Crouches down and taps the water with his fingers a couple of times. Lafayette’s seen this routine before. Knows how it gets started. 

Generally speaking watching John work is something akin to the Jeff Corwin Experience of Steve Irwin. Lafayette’s not sure how he does it. Just that he does it. There’s a cooler kept near the pond, and Lafayette opens it. Pulls out a couple of carrots and passes them to John. 

It takes a few minutes, but eventually the black lump swims its way over onto the shore. A common snapping turtle, Edgar is of standard size. He’s impressively pleasant too. John gives the same care and devotion to him as he does any one of the animals under their care. 

He gives the same spiel too. Snapping turtles are generally pleasant, but you shouldn’t approach them. They can be skittish, and they are usually fully aware of where they are and where they want to be. Don’t pick them up. Ever. 

Of course the first thing John does is pick up Edgar. He lifts him, shows Maman and Père how he’s holding him. Then shows the stomach. To their credit, neither of Lafayette’s parents ask to touch Edgar. And when he’s done, John gently lowers the turtle back to the ground. He smiles at it. And Edgar eats a few carrots before crawling back into the pond for some fish. 

_ “He’s happy, isn’t he?”  _ Maman asks Lafayette as John shows Père how they keep the cooler cold. 

Lafayette smiles.  _ “Yeah, yeah...I think he is.”  _


	7. Alex and Kitty

“You can’t have her,” John tells Alex after he finishes pressing his face against Kitty’s fur. They’ve been sitting out in the barn for nearly an hour, and Alex cannot stop touching the pretty little kitten. 

He runs his hands over kitty’s fur and scratches the top of her head. Kitty’s gotten a lot more used to people since her first day with them. But alex is stretching it right now. It’s remarkable how tolerant the little cat’s being. 

Alex whines, “Why not?” and hugs Kitty to his chest. 

“Because she’s Milch’s.” The geriatric milk cow huffs a breath of air. Leans over and gums at Alex’s pony tail. He’s got the eccentric writer thing down to a science. Every part of him looks foot loose and fancy free. There’s even ink smearing his fingers from where he’d been caught jostling his notebook. 

Pages are poking out from Alex’s pockets. 

John rolls his eyes toward the sky. He can’t help but smile at it. It’s a familiar sight. 

Aaron’s on a business trip and Madison’s drinking something fancy with Laf. Neither had been too interested in wooing the kitten again, and so Alex and John happily left them behind. 

Found their own corner of space to enjoy. 

It gives John more time to sprawl out. Legs stretched as far as they will go. Head butting up against some hay. Bert and Ernie are flopped nearby, and John lets his fingers trail towards whichever one’s closest. Bert. 

He rubs at Bert’s legs. Snorting when the dog rolls onto his back. Tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

They’ll need to get ready soon. Laf’s got a show starting in three hours, and they’ll need to get showered and dressed before heading out. Lafayette will need to leave first. Getting the dancers into position. But John’s going to ferry Madison and Alex just behind. 

Still...John wants to see Lafayette before they go. If only to wish him good luck. No. That’s not it. _Break a leg._

“I bet Aaron would let me bring her home,” Alex mumbles conspiratorially. 

“I bet Aaron would bring her right back.” It’s true. Aaron’s made it clear. No stray farm animals of any kind will make their way back to the farm-free zone of their home. “You can’t smuggle a kitten into a house without him noticing.” 

“...I could try.” John snorts. Stands up. He brushes stray hay off his jeans. Shakes out his hair. Bert rolls over and stretches. Arching his back down. He farts loudly, and Kitty sneezes. Once. Twice. Three times. “Ugh,” Alex shakes his head. Accepts John’s assistance in getting to his feet. He places Kitty back on Milch’s butt, and the cat curls up in moments. Easily falling asleep once more. “You’ve got to do something about that,” Alex tells John seriously. 

“Seriously, dog could light a house on fire with those things,” John mutters. He leans over and gives Alex a quick kiss. “Thanks for coming.” 

“Anytime,” Alex says. Grinning. “Anytime.” 


	8. Bats

Bert’s playing pillow. Lafayette’s lying on a blanket. Head on Bert’s side. Staring up at the stars. Crackers and cheese next to him. Ernie took off the moment the lights of John’s Volvo pulled into the drive. Lafayette could hear John’s voice murmuring to Ernie initially. Then the swing of the screen door screeching. Then silence. 

The lights of the house flicker on then off. Eventually the back door opens and Ernie bounds out. Laf doesn’t move. Just keeps staring up at the sky. Waiting for John’s quiet footsteps to approach. It’s the first time he’s seen John in nearly a week. And under the faint glow of the waxing crescent? He’s never looked so beautiful. 

Tired, yes. But beautiful. 

Curly hair hanging down by the sides of his face. Tight shirt still on. Showing off his muscular form. His legs are, unfortunately, hidden under some cargo pants. But that’s fine. Lafayette knows what John’s legs look like. He doesn’t need the reminder. 

Hanging around John’s neck is his anchor pendant. The moon glitters off it. The lone piece of jewelry that John wears constantly. He never takes it off. Even on dives. “Mon amour,” Lafayette greets. He holds up his hand. 

And John falls. Knees hitting the ground next to Lafayette’s body. He tilts his head against the oustretched palm. Eyes fluttering closed as he leans into the touch. It’s so easy to pull John’s head down. Pull him in for a kiss. 

They trade kisses slowly. Back and forth and back and forth. John’s practically trembling against Lafayette’s lips. Eventually resting his head against Lafayette’s brow, “God I’ve missed you.” 

“And yet you keep leaving.” Lafayette doesn’t mean it as an insult. But John flinches none the less. Lafayette sighs. Shakes his head. Kisses John again, before guiding him to settle down where he belongs. Resting against his Lafayette’s side. Arms curling around his body. 

It’s nice out. Warm. Summer heat still keeping them nice and comfortable. John rolls over eventually. Looks up at the stars. Lafayette trails his fingers through soft curls. Washed carefully and conditioned before coming back. “It’s hard,” John murmurs. Watching the sky. “Going out.” 

Lafayette sighs. It’s not the right time for this conversation. John’s home. He should be happy. And he is. He just. Doesn’t know what to say when John says things like that. 

He’s been out at sea for a week. The longest in months. Usually it’s only a couple of days. One night. But this...it’d been a long time. Even Milch looked sad. 

“We sat out on the deck,” John reveals. “Popped a few beers and traded stories.” Lafayette keeps petting John’s hair. Listening to him talk. “Andy had an ear listening for the pod you know? So it wasn’t all fun and games.” He makes a frustrated noise. “But it was nice. We looked up. And there were all the stars. Just like this. Stars everywhere. Light gone. You can see everything on the sea.”

“Is it nicer than here?” Lafayette asks. 

“There’s so many more. Like glitter tossed onto a navy carpet.” John’s rarely this poetic. But he loves the sea. Loves everything above and below. 

John wanted this farm. Wanted a place quiet and removed from the city. Someplace where they can be themselves. And nothing else. And yet. The call of the sea is too much for John to resist. He can’t turn away from it. No matter what it is. 

“We saw the pod crest on the night of a new moon. There was twenty. Even had some calves.” It would have been a glorious sight. Lafayette can just imagine it. “It was magical…but you want to know something?” he rolls over. Slides his arms to bracket Lafayette’s body. “I hated it.” 

That...didn’t seem right. 

“You love those sights.” 

“I’m tired of seeing them alone.” Lafayette blinks. “I talked to Otis today,” John tells him. Kissing Lafayette’s lips so tender and sweet. “You want to come with us next time?” another kiss. This time firmer. More passionate. “Take photos of the team? While we’re out?”

Christ. Lafayette surges. Grabs John’s body and twists. Pushes him down. Holding him beneath him back against the blanket. Bert grumbles. Shifts out of the way to give them room. Moving to curl around Ernie. 

John grins at him. “I’m tired of spending nights under the stars without you. Let’s not do it again.” 

Lafayette grins back. This time, when they kiss, it doesn’t have the same ringing finality that it had for months prior. John’s still leaving again. But this time. They’re going together. 

John’s head tilts back. He huffs a laugh. “What?” Lafayette asks.

“There’s something you don’t see on the ocean.” Turning, Lafayette glances up at the sky.

Oh.

There are bats. 

Somewhere, Milch moos. “Hello, love,” John murmurs, reaching up to touch Lafayette’s face. 

“Hello,  _ mon amour.” _

“I’m home.” 

_ “ _ Welcome home.”  

They don’t go in for the rest of the night. 


	9. Aaron

John’s passed out in the seat next to him. His hair’s still a little damp. Head leaning against the strap of the belt buckle. Lafayette’s holding his left hand. Stroking his thumb across the soft skin. Lafayette isn’t the greatest fan of diving. He’d suffered through John teaching him how to breathe. Even enjoyed the role reversal as John guided him through wearing the mask. Dressing in the gear. Managing the flippers.

John took to the water like a merman. Swimming effortlessly with his flipper feet. Lafayette couldn’t quite manage it without knocking his legs together. Swimming a laborious chore rather than an enjoyable dip. But John _loved_ the water. And as much as Lafayette didn’t exactly _like_ the experience of diving himself, he’d taken almost seventy photos throughout the trip. His favorite, was of John on the deck of the ship. Wetsuit zipped down, hanging about his hips. He’s topless. Leaning back on his arms. Head tilted back toward the sun. Smiling with his teeth. _Bliss_ on every inch of his skin.

Turning into the driveway, Lafayette gives John’s hand a slight squeeze. _“Mon amour?”_ he murmurs softly. “We’re home.” He gets a weary grunt in response. They’re going to talk later about how tired John is after his dives. How he’d driven home this tired time and again, and never told Lafayette just _how_ tired he was. For right now, they’re back.

Everything’s good.

John makes a small noise from the back of his throat. Blinking blearily at the house. “Why’re the lights on?” he mumbles.

“We asked Alex to look after things, remember?” Lafayette asks, drawing John’s hand up to kiss the knuckles.

The front door to their house opens almost the moment after Lafayette pulls up. He frowns, shifting into park. Aaron’s marching out the door, down the steps and is on his way to the car quick as a whip. John squints at the older man. “Go on in,” Lafayette encourages. He gives John’s hand a final squeeze, then gets out. He hadn’t even closed to door before Aaron was in his face.

“What the _hell_ kind of animals are you raising out here?” Aaron asks. Johns still trying to figure out how to get out of the car. His door keeps opening and closing and he’s not managing to get it open fully enough to get out.

“Pardon?” Lafayette asks Aaron slowly.

He takes a moment to look Aaron over. _Frenzied_ seems like the best word to use. His clothes are a mess. His eyes are wide. He looks like he’s seen the gates of hell and has returned from the wars. John manages to get out of the car. Barely. He falls over and catches himself. Lafayette’d half think he was drunk if he hadn’t been with him all day and _know_ better.

“Your dogs—”

“—did they bite anyone?” John asks.

“No, John, go to bed,” Aaron orders, waving him off. John does just that. Nodding at them both before wandering to the house. Aaron doesn’t let Lafayette off as easily. “ _You._ What kind of animals are _you_ raising.”

Lafayette has no idea what he’s talking about. He really doesn’t. He holds up his hands. Shrugs.  “They’re all John’s.” And they are. Every animal on this farm belongs to John. John wanted them. He took care of them. Lafayette paid for it all.

“ _John didn’t teach the dogs to only answer to commands in French.”_

Oh.

Well.

Technically, that was true.

Lafayette did that.

But.

Well.

“That’s….not my fault.” Aaron looks like he’s going to kill him. He actually _looks_ murderous. It’s a strange look for Aaron. Lafayette’s tempted to congratulate him on finding a new range of emotions. But. He doesn’t particularly want to tempt fate at the moment. Especially because as it is, he’s struggling to keep from smiling.

“Whose fault is it? Exactly? Because it’s certainly isn’t mine.”

“So the dogs speak French? Is this a problem?”

Aaron steps in close. Slams the car door shut between them. “Those _dogs_ are menaces. They want to be in your arms at all times. They don’t get off. They don’t stop drooling. How do you live like that?”

The urge to laugh has returned. Lafayette’s trying really hard to be good. Don’t tease Aaron when he’s upset. Everyone’s told him this. He’s fully aware of that fact. But. It’s very difficult not to. And he can’t quite manage to stay perfectly placid. “They are not so bad?”

“And that _cat._ ”

“What did Kitty do?” She’s a sweet little thing, and Aaron cannot possibly complain that Kitty only listens to French. Kitty doesn’t listen to anyone.

Aaron tugged his sleeves up. There are eight deep scratch lines going up both Aaron’s arms. And they truly are _deep._ “James nearly lost an eye.” Lafayette blinks.

“That’s…not my fault.” The sound of absolute disgust Aaron makes breaks all of Lafayette’s concentration. He’s had enough. He starts laughing. Giggling even.

Aaron turns his head. “Alex, James, we’re leaving!”

“I-I’m sorry little Burr, it’s just. The dogs speak French and the cat is not so good? And what else?”

“What _else?_ ” Aaron points toward the barn. “Your goat is literally _Satan.”_

“Yes? We knew this, did we not?”

“How do you live like this?” Aaron steps forward and places his hands on Lafayette’s arms. Lafayette resists the urge to close the gap and just hug him. He looks like he needs a hug. He’d probably not appreciate it. But. He looks like he needs one. “Lafayette. _How_ do you live like this? _Why?”_

And that’s the question isn’t it. Lafayette grins. He leans in, and gives into temptation. Wrapping Aaron up in a tight hug Aaron immediately grumbles about. He shifts and squirms in Lafayette’s arms. “We do a lot for the ones we love, non?” Lafayette asks. Daring a quick kiss on the side of Aaron’s head.

That’s enough for Aaron. He squirms back and away. Crossing his arms over his chest. “I can never tell if you’re a demon or a saint.”

“I’m both, non?”

Aaron nods. “Alex!” Because there’s no doubt which one is holding them up. It takes a little longer, but eventually Alex comes trudging out. Trying, unsuccessfully, to hide Kitty under his shirt. Lafayette rolls his eyes and marches forward. Kissing Alex in greeting, and stealing his cat back.

“Do try to be nice to Aaron, _chaton,_ ” Lafayette teases. Enjoying this inverse of position very well. Alex blinks up at him. Frowns.

“I’m always nice,” he says. Confusion evident. Lafayette holds up Kitty as evidence. Alex’s bottom lip warbles. Thankfully, Madison steps forward and nudges Alex toward Aaron’s car.

“Welcome home,” is all he gets from Madison. Then he and Aaron rush Alex out and away.

Lafayette snorts. Somehow, he doubts they’ll be willing to house sit again.  

 


	10. Cook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:  
> I forget if you mentioned it but do Farm!Laf and John have a pig?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm learning French, and John speaks nothing but it.

_“Lafayette est en France,”_ John tells Cook. The fat bellied pig is eating her dinner slowly. Nosing at the ground and chewing with a kind of endless determination. Bert’s going from fence post to fence post. Sniffing and tilting his head in confusion before returning to John’s side. _“C'est un abruti.”_ Cook grunts loudly and takes a few step forwards.

She’s a nice pig. One of those miraculously friendly ones who doesn’t cause much trouble. When the kids are up at the farm, they like petting her and washing her. One of the 4-H girls especially likes to take the time to give Cook a milk bath. Rubbing all the mud off her body and turning her a nice rosy pink.

Cook’s pretty ambivalent toward them. Lets them do their bit. Poses for their photos. Then the moment they’re gone she’ll just give John a look and he’ll wave his hand toward her pen where she’ll quite happily find the muddies place possible and plant herself solidly on in it. She’s a mess within minutes, but she’s happy and cool, and John’s not going to feel bad that the kids’ work has been destroyed.

 _“Je suis trop con…”_ John sighs. He should have gone with Lafayette. He’d been given an invite, of course. Maman and Père had both asked him to come along. Eager to show him off to all their friends.

_Notre gendre, enfin, bientôt j'espère…_

John had made up excuses. Shaking his head. Begging off. Lafayette rolled his eyes, called him a coward, and packed his bags. In retaliation, John didn’t so much as schedule a dive. Just decided he’d sit in their house by himself and look after the animals. Maybe invite Alex over.

It’s not even that he dislikes his in-laws. Or. Well. Whatever they’ve decided to call themselves. It’s not even that he doesn’t like _France._ It’s just. “ _Je suis trop con.”_

Cook grunts at him again, and he raises a brow. Reaches a hand out to scratch her head. She’s got a little burn mark behind one hear, and he rubs it. Getting into the areas that fold over painfully and alleviating whatever discomfort he can. She leans into his touch. _“J'adore Pierre…et Maman et Père aussi…Mais…Je ne…merde.”_ John sighs and pushes away from the pen. There are other animals to feed, and other chores he needs to accomplish.

The ring finger on his left hand burns. The skin capturing his attention entirely. He can feel every particle that’s in contact with the small area. Can identify every single sensation in existence. Furious, he grabs onto his pendant and holds it tight.

When it comes down to it, he’s never once regretted saying ‘no’. He’s regretted the separation. Regretted the months lost because they weren’t speaking to each other. Regretted the failed encounters that seemed to make up the sum total of a miserable year.

But he hadn’t regretted saying ‘no.’

Especially not considering how everything’s all turned out.

This is good. It’s very good. He’s happy. Lafayette’s happy.

Cook grunts and snorts behind him, and Bert and Ernie dog his heels.

 _“C'est bon…”_ John mumbles to himself, holding the front door open for the dogs to get inside. _“C'est bon…”_


	11. Snow

John can’t help himself. Lafayette’s trying to get a blanket on the horse, and it’s just too good of an opportunity. Reaching down, he scoops up a palmful of snow. Packing it in, he steps into position and lets it fly. 

The snowball splats against Lafayette’s back. Their horse huffs in amusement. Whinnies even as Lafayette slowly finishes clipping the blanket into position and turns around. 

John’s already got his second snowball primed. He lets it loose before Lafayette can even think about complaining. And then he runs. 

He’s not stupid enough to think that he’ll get away with either attack, but the least he can do is get a head start. 

Bert and Ernie start barking, and Lafayette wields threats. He chases after John with great loping strides. 

He’s faster than John, but John’s scrappier. He slides under the fence of Satan’s pen, narrowly avoiding braining himself in the process. Stumbling back to his feet, John turns around, watches as Lafayette skids to a stop. 

Huffing great white clouds of cold air from his mouth. He’s not impressed. Even crosses his arms as he looks at John stoically. “You do realize you will need to leave sooner or later?” Lafayette confirms. 

Satan bleats loudly. Stamping his hooves into the snowy ground. John had already wrestled his sweater on earlier. Satan hadn’t liked it one bit, but at least he wasn’t going to freeze to death. 

Satan just didn’t have the fur to keep him warm during the cold months. Honestly, that wasn’t John’s fault. 

“I realize,” John admits, grinning wickedly. He bends down to get more snow, and Lafayette scoffs. 

“You cannot possibl—”

John’s aim is true! It hits Lafayette right in the face, and Satan or no, he’s had enough. Scrambling over the fence posts, he chases John through the enclosure. Avoiding Satan’s angry charging, slipping and sliding on the snow. Tackling John at long last just as he’s about to make an attempt over the fence. 

They hit a snow pile. 

Bert whines as he looks between the two of them, but it’s a lost cause. Lafayette’s shoveling snow down John’s shirt and he’s shrieking and flailing. 

“What do we say, mon amour?” 

“I am _not_ say—” 

Face full of snow. Lafayette makes a vague threat about it going down his pants next, and John groans. “ _You’re_ the king of the hill,” he mutters disdainfully. 

Lafayette nods seriously. “Damn right I am.” 

John rolls his eyes. _What a child._


	12. Dance

John's supposed to be at sea for another three days.  He's supposed to be out looking at cuttlefish and studying migration patterns.  He is not supposed to be standing in the front door, jacket wrapped, form fitting black t-shirt pressed snugly around his body, as his olive green cargo pants seemed to melt into the floor. 

_ I have not been laid in far too long,  _ Lafayette thinks haphazardly as he stares at the image John makes.  His partner leans against the counter.  Smiling at Amber as she grins up at him.  Making small chat while the rest of the class conducts itself.  Lafayette wants to go to him.  Wants to hold him close and breathe in his scent.  It's been almost two weeks since they last saw each other in person.

Stilted Skype feeds on a satellite line don't always come across well.  Lafayette smiled in the video calls, though.  Smiled and called the dogs up so they can bop the camera with their noses.  John always existed in a state of excited exhaustion.  Worked into a frenzy over whatever fascinating discovery he was working on, and oblivious to all else.

He doesn't notice it when Lafayette gentles him to sleep.  Lowering his voice and dragging out his sentences until John's lids start to flutter and he slumps a bit.  John likely  _ wouldn't  _ sleep if not for that.  He'd stay up reading and staring at the ocean.  A sailor looking for his siren call to carry him beneath the waves.

That's all Lafayette gets when John's out at sea.  He gets bleary, rambling Skype calls that are often dropped when the feed cuts out.  It's not actually  _ seeing  _ him.  Not actually being with him.  Able to reach a hand out and tangle his fingers into John's curls.  Press his face against his and just feel the warmth of his skin.

Amber says something to John, and John stops smiling Lafayette's way.  Stops looking his direction, so he can turn and  _ sprawl  _ against the counter.  Right arm folded over, left propping his chin upward.  He's practically flirting, though Lafayette doubts Amber realizes who to. 

Deciding that it warrants a response, Lafayette signals for his students to continue their steps for another few minutes on their own.  One of his assistants step in to keep an eye on thing, and he steps off the dance floor to walk toward John. 

His partner reaches up toward him immediately.  Hugging him close.  He smells like the sea.  In school, John always had a faint scent of sweat and body odor.  He never washed entirely properly back then.  Not really.  He’d get soap on his body and he’d scrub, but there always seemed to be a kind of odor about him that Lafayette had long since grown used to. 

It’s different now. 

Since John went on to graduate school, earned his doctorate, took his dive certifications and joined the research team, he’s been far more astute in regards to his personal appearance.  His hair, though still longer than strictly appropriate, remained neatly tended to.  Tied back at all times in a careful tail that could slip into his wetsuit easily.  He scrubbed himself clean at the end of each dive.  Carefully inspecting for any kind of musky water remains.  

Bacteria, John’s said more than once, makes a bad bedfellow. 

But even with the bacteria gone, the salt water still leaves a smell.  There’s a wind breeze caught within John’s hair.  A kind of tang that wraps around him and leaves him unique and perfect.  John, but also something more.  As if the water had been the final missing piece in John’s soul that he’d been missing all his life. 

John’s born for the sea, Lafayette knows.  There is no removing one from the other.  Should John leave the ocean for too long, Lafayette knows it’d kill him.  A selkie and his coat.  Trapped on dry land when the water’s where he longs to be. 

Spying the anchor necklace that John always keeps around his neck.  He touches it lightly, tracing the design as John smiles up at him fondly.  “You’re home early,” Lafayette breathes out.  He wants to wrap his hand around the charp.  Pull it toward him, chain and all. Hold John in place as he holds his partner close. 

“Wanted to surprise you,” John says.  He bats his eyes at Lafayette, and the tease is subtle.  Something a different partner might have done.  But John’s angling for something more here.  He’s not the man who flirts shamelessly with secretaries in hopes of earning Lafayette’s jealousy.  He’s not the man who flutters his lashes to elicit a response. 

John leans forward and presses their lips together.  His hip taps against Lafayette’s and— _ he’s hard.  _  Lafayette rolls his eyes before they’re even done kissing.  John  _ is  _ the kind of man to stop by the dance studio just for a quickie after a dive.

“I’ve another hour left,” Lafayette tells him apologetically.  John’s expression doesn’t change.  It remains entirely too innocent and charming.  “Care to assist?” 

He’s expecting John to say ‘no.’  Rare is the day he manages to get John to dance in public.  John’s a brilliant dancer, but he tends to keep this knowledge to himself.  Shockingly, John just nods his head.  Unwraps his jacket from around his waist and tossing it onto a spare chair. 

One of the student’s mother squints at it unhappily.  Lips pursed as Lafayette lets John take his hand.  Lafayette wouldn’t be surprised if he lost the student because of this.  It’s nothing he cares about.  He’s more interested in the students and families who can exist  _ without  _ prejudice. 

John smiles at some of the kids he recognizes.  He still attends recitals even if he doesn’t do it often.  But whenever he’s not on a dive or he’s out in the field, he’ll help set up the events and poke at the kids’ outfits until they needed to scurry on stage.  Lafayette caught him, mouth full of bobby pins, adjusting bows and ribbons last minute.  He’s a good helper during the shows. 

One of the girls, Margo, is having trouble with the second step in their sequence, so Lafayette leaves John to help the kids as he wants.  Listening with half an ear, Lafayette can hear him commenting on the position of one of the dancer’s legs.  Moving hands into position as needed. 

“Can you show us from the beginning?” Tina asks, and Lafayette can’t help but look at John. 

He knows that his assistants could serve as partner for him, but...John’s here.  And John’s done this sequence countless times before in their kitchen.  John frowns a little, but the hesitation turns into something surprisingly agreeable. 

He steps toward Lafayette and lets Lafayette put him in position.  John’s following, Lafayette’s leading.  The music starts up and the kids gather around to watch.  They step together easily and without any sign of trouble.  Backward forward. 

John’s lithe and slender.  Body, tight coiled muscle that still feels thin in Lafayette’s arms.  He turns and whirls easily.  Toes sliding up to form ‘air heels.’ Someone snaps a picture on their cell phone, and John winks at him.  Pressing his body a little too close on the turn. 

The tango is already an intimate dance.

John makes it sinful. 

_ It is in your head,  _ Lafayette chastises himself as he pushes and pulls at his partner.  Without heels, John’s sock feet slide across the floor and he needs to arch onto his toes to get some of the turns appropriately. Muscles coiling and body sublime in Lafayette’s arms.  

When he leans back, he does so very subtly, pressing his ass against Lafayette’s groin.  It feels  _ good.  _ Sinful and decadent, and John’s angling for a bruising if he keeps it up.  He’s  _ working. _ The song ends and Lafayette smiles with his teeth when he hears the scattered applause. 

John still has that innocent grin plastered onto his face.  He turns to step away from Lafayette, and it’s a game to him.  A game as he lets his hips move far more than he needs to, walking to help a boy on the end with how to spin properly. Which way his feet need to go. 

The clock seems to be taking its time clicking to the end.  Even Amber, at reception, is starting to sag.  She wants to go home too, and Lafayette wants this studio _ closed.  _  Kids are fidgeting in the front room, John’s still sending Lafayette winks when he thinks he’s going to get away with it, and the kids are starting to yawn. 

He starts the cool down exercises the second he can get away with it, and even  _ those  _ feel too exhausting.  He needs to force himself to stay in position as they pull through the yoga routine.  Breathe in, stretch, breath out, sink lower. When the clock  _ finally _ strikes nine, Lafayette immediately calls the end of the lesson. 

Kids go scrambling for their clothes and their shoes.  They chat amongst themselves as they hurry off the floor.  One of the younger girls, a senior in highschool named Harry, is parked in front of John, though.  Her dark skin turning darker as she looks up at him with hopeful eyes. John’s being polite.  Surprisingly.  He’s rocking back on his heels and looking at her with an expression of patient interest. 

Lafayette can all to easily remember when he wouldn’t give her the time of day.  Just shoulder past her and be rude. At least he’s playing well with others.  Lafayette loiters nearby, just close enough to overhear without being noticeably obvious.  He busies himself with taking notes of the lesson on his clipboard.  He’ll have to mark which student needed more work for later. 

Harry is apparently trying to tell John how grateful she was he took the time to teach her her steps, and if that’s not the  _ cutest  _ thing?  Still uncomfortable with praise from others, even after all this time, John manages to keep a smile on his face.  Manages to thank her, tell her he’d help anytime—idiot—and then made a gesture that he had to go.  

As if on cue, Harry’s mother barked for her to hurry up, and off she went.  Lafayette stepping back to avoid getting run over.  “You can head out, Amber,” Lafayette calls over.  “I’ll close down.” 

“You sure boss?” she asks, frowning at him.  He nods.   _ Just go already!  _ “Thanks!” Amber grabs her bag and coat and runs out the door.  Forgetting to turn off her minesweeper game and hiding the fact she was playing on facebook during the lessons. 

Kids.

“You keep calling them that,” John hums, stepping up to wrap his arms around Lafayette’s waist from behind.  He’s too short to tuck his chin onto Lafayette’s shoulder, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. Pointy chin digging into the bone. “Most of those  _ kids  _ are eighteen, nineteen, twenty.”

“Kids,” Lafayette repeats.  The door clicks shut, and they are alone.  Lafayette wants nothing more than to turn John around and press him hard against a wall.  But alone is only as alone as double checking.  He taps John’s arm and steps free, walking to the dressing rooms and knocking.  Calling out to see if anyone’s inside, opening the doors as he shouts for someone to come out.  

He checks the bathroom, the office, and the main floor, and when he’s done, John’s at the front door.  Locking it and lowering the shades.  He’s got the music for the tango playing again.  Smile turning vicious as he stalks across the floor.  

Lafayette grins, lets John slide his hands into position and push him forward.  He’s trying to lead, and he’s doing it well.  Lafayette lets his feet move backward on John’s command.  He lets John pretend he’s going to keep leading.  Right up to the climax of the piece.  Then it’s all to easy to exert a little pressure, kick out at John’s left leg and guide him backwards. He needs to catch John as he falls into a dip that should have gone smoothly. 

Eyes wide and staring up at Lafayette with the makings of a pout forming on his lips.  Lafayette can’t help kissing him now.  Sighing into John’s sea smooth lips. Ocean exfoliating his skin so every part of him is soft to the touch. God, he wants to take John  _ apart.  _

Dragging his partner up, he catches John’s hip and refuses to let him try to take the lead back.  He crowds him.  Stepping into his body and slotting their joints together.  Push shove, turn and twist.  Lafayette can feel John getting hard each time they come together.  Can smell his desire when he turns in a spin and is pulled back into place.  John’s ass tight against Lafayette’s groin.

Lafayette rocks into him a few times, lets his head fall so he can suck at John’s neck.  He wants to roll back the years.  So they’re twenty-two and he has all the excuse in the world to bend and break and bruise John’s all too willing body. 

“Mine,” he growls into John’s ear. 

Anyone else would have sighed. Replied,  _ “Yours,”  _ dutifully and faithfully. 

John jerks free from Lafayette’s hold and spins around.  Slides his hands up into Lafayette’s hair and locks him in place.  _ “Mine,”  _ John tells him tightly.  

They kiss. Fierce and determined, always fighting for dominance.  For control.  Backs against walls.  Shifting and turning.  Bodies pressing so close, so very very close. Fuck it. 

John’s  _ his,  _ and he’s going to fight every second to prove it so.  He squeezes John’s hips between his hands.  “Welcome home,” he whispers against John’s lips, breath funnelling through John’s mouth.  Whistling a little as it hits the back of his throat and returns. Then he bites John’s neck, and listens as John  _ sings.  _

He hates it when John has to leave. 

But the reunions are always the best. 


	13. Fireworks

Lafayette's truck is filled with boxes.  John crosses his arms as he looks at it.  Lips pressing together as he watches Lafayette back the truck up in their yard.  Bert starts whining, and Ernie's nails keep clicking against the porch as he shifts about.  "Even the dogs think you're being stupid," John calls out.  Just in case Lafayette still wanted to hear his opinion.

Lafayette doesn't.

He scowls at John and makes a rude gesture before putting the truck in park and scrambling out.  He opens his tailgate and starts unloading the bed.  Boxes being set side by side.  Milch moos loudly from her place in the barn.  "You're going to scare the cow," John tells him.  Not that Milch ever seems bothered by anyone or anything. Milch's the type of cow who just likes to eat grass and doze while standing up.

She's more likely to be bothered by their cat finding a new place to nap than she is by the fireworks Lafayette wants to set off.  Satan, on the other hand, is positively furious.  He's already stalking his pen.  Horns smashing into fence posts that they've needed to set in cinderblocks to keep from falling over.  They've had to replace three posts already, Satan breaking them all in his vengeance.

Someone turns in the driveway, and John can just see the dust cloud forming as the car come strolling toward the house.  "If you kill yourself before we tell them, I'm going to be pissed," John tells Lafayette firmly.  He's still trying to get used to the feeling of the band around his finger.  Still trying to pretend it's normal.  Alex is going to be upset that he missed the 'ceremony', but John really can't be bothered to care.

He's anxious enough about it as it is.

"I'm not going to kill myself, _mon mari,"_ Lafayette shouts back.  John flushes at the term.  Always has.  It’s been over a year, and yet, every time Lafayette says it it makes John flush.  His body an electric live wire, circuit running through him.  Threatening to stop his heart on its own.

Lafayette’s so careful with it.

He’s not slipped up once.  Not once all year.  Despite whispering it reverently against John’s skin.  Using it around the house, outside with the chores.  John melts at the words.  Feels boneless and slack.  His eyes flutter and he cannot stop himself from wondering if this is how it starts.  The concessions the acceptance.  If that feeling of _anything for you_ is how it starts up.  

It’s a _fight_ to not let the thoughts grow worse.  It’s a _fight_ to not feel like his brain is going to explode, his heart pounding clear out his chest.  It’s been a year.  A year to make sure nothing’s changed.  Nothing’s going to change.  Everything’s fine.  He’s an adult.  He’s an adult, and he’s fucking married.

He can tell his friends that he’s married.

Preferably before Lafayette blows himself up.

Burr pulls the car up to the front of the house, and John tells the dogs its okay to go meet them, but—”No jumping!” Bert ignores him and jumps up onto the door, panting heavily as he looks inside to Madison.

Alex is already pushing open his own door, going to his knees to pull Ernie in for a great hug.  Petting his wrinkled face and cooing obscenely.  Burr escapes the dogs he can’t stand, quickly scurrying from the car to the porch to meet John.  

He gives John a firm hug, and then steps aside.  “Where’s your worse half?” Burr asks.  Even after all these years they still like to pretend they hate each other.  John rolls his eyes but points at the field.  The older man squints at the truck and Lafayette and the boxes of— “Are those _fireworks?”_

“He’s really committed to Bastille Day,” John replies with a sigh.  “You’re welcome to stop him from blowing up the barn.  Lord knows I’ve fucking tried.”

It’s a losing battle, but between spending time with the dogs and spending time with Lafayette, clearly Burr has his priorities in line.  He marches across the grass to try to put some order to the chaos.  

No you cannot light four at the same time, what are you, crazy?

And Alex runs up to meet John instead, Ernie scampering after him as Bert finally lets Madison leave the car.  Alex bounces on his toes, leaning up to kiss John firmly in hello.  It’s light and familiar, and John sighs into it.  Wraps his arms around Alex’s waist and relishing in the fact that this is good.  This is them.  Nothing’s changed.  Not yet, anyway.

Someone’s bound to notice the ring on his hand sooner or later.  John never wears his wedding band.  He told Lafayette as much last year.  He wore it when he agreed they can give it a try.  And then he promptly took it off afterwards.  He’d forget it.  John _knew_ he’d forget to take it off.  Knew it would come out in the open in a away that he wasn’t ready for.

In a way that he was trying to prepare himself for now.  It’s been a year of silence, and...it’s been good.  It’s been really good.  Nothing has changed.  They’ve taken it easy.  Their lives are normal and nothing has changed.

But John wears his ring now.  Trying to fight back the anxiety that’s flooding his body.  He closes his eyes.  Finds that to be a little easier.  Just holds onto Alex as his closest friend kisses him, nuzzling against his face.  “I’ve missed you!” Alex tells him, looping his arms around John’s neck.

They saw each other less than a week ago.  Ridiculous child.

Madison steps in and leans around Alex, gives John a peck at the corner of his mouth.  “How you doing Captain?” he asks teasingly.

“I’m not a Captain,” John replies.  He tells Madison this every time they get together.  There’s a very clear, obvious distinction there, but Madison doesn’t seem to care enough about it to remember.  Just ruffles John’s hair like a kid, and motions toward Aaron and Lafayette.

“What’s going on with them?” he asks.

“Laf wants to blow something up.”

“He’s thirty-eight years old. What the hell is he trying to blow shit up for?”

John shrugs helplessly and Madison sighs and marches over to inspect the mess that just seems to be getting bigger. Aaron’s convinced Lafayette to move some of the boxes further apart, but now they are inspecting the instructions on the rockets and John pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

To his left, Alex drops down to continue cuddling Bert and Ernie, both of whom have turned their full geriatric attention to him.  Offering their bellies for pets, tongues rolling out of their faces. “Are we going to talk about it?” Alex asks.  He’s not looking at John, but his intention is clear.  

John’s eyes fall to his ring.  His fingers start twisting it nervously.  He wants to talk about it.  But he also doesn’t. It still makes him feel like he’s going to self destruct at any moment. “Last year,” John gets out.  He’s fifteen years old, awkwardly trying to make friends with the boy who sits across from him.  Not being able to phrase his sentences right, because he’s just not used to talking.

“Are you okay with it?” Alex asks. He finally looks up, and John feels his knees turn to jello.  He lowers himself so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder.

There’s been so much hell regarding weddings and marriage and expectations.  The break up.  Getting back together.  It’s been something that John’s actively tried to avoid thinking of for as long as possible.  Would have kept putting off if he could.

But.

It felt right.

The day he went looking for his old college books for no reason other than a stray note he was hoping to find, and found the ring instead, it felt right.  To open it.  To slide the ring on his finger.  To stare at it and think about whether it would change.  He hadn’t felt the immediate rush of panic and devastation he’d expected.

Hadn’t felt the anger and the loathing.  The desire to never make it official because as soon as you do—it’s divorce.  Separation.  Loneliness.

“I am,” John whispers.  Alex leans over to him.  Kisses him again. Letting his hand wrap around John’s left.  Covering the ring.  

The first shot of a firework goes off, and John jumps.  Turns to watch as it sparks brightly through the sky.  Exploding into hundreds of brilliant lights that flicker and fall to the ground with a faint smattering of dust.

Lafayette hoops with delight.  He turns to look back at John, all but bouncing on his toes.  He’s got the torch still in hand and he’s ready to light the next one, and John’s heart swell.   _“C'est mon mari, et je l’aime.”_ Fourteen years of learning and speaking French has it rolling of his tongue with ease.  Alex squeezes his hand again.  

“Thanks for telling me.”  There’s something in his tone, and John squint sat him.

“You already fucking knew.”

His best friend.  His best fucking friend.  Since God-damned high school.  Who he trusted and loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life near.  His best fucking friend is _laughing at him._

“John we’ve known since what - last _June?_ ” They got married in June. John’s going to kill his husband.  He’s going to life as a widower. Fuck Lafayette. He was right. Pain and anguish and hell.

“GILBERT!” He shouts across the field.

Alex is laughing.  Laughing hysterically as Lafayette turns to stare up at them, caught in the middle of trying to light another rocket.  Aaron and Madison both seem to take a step back, and John doubts very much it has to do with the pyrotechnics.  “It was a google alert!” Alex tells him before he can scream any more.  “I have it set up on my phone? It texts you when news article goes up.  I tracked your names?  For fun?  And the announcement thing and the records had a digital record so I got a text.”

John freezes.  He stares at Alex.  “You never said anything?”

“You didn’t tell me.  Tell us.”  There’s no judgement.  No complaint.  No guilt.  Alex just smiles at him.  “I figured when you were ready you would.  After everything...I just wanted you to be ready.”

“I’m ready,” John tells him stiffly.  He feels awkward and uncomfortable, like he’s been caught in a year long lie that he doesn’t know how he feels.  But Alex isn’t upset, and neither are Madison and Aaron.  Nothing’s changed this past year.  They’ve all been together at one point or another.  All spent time trading stories and lives and moments.  They’ve all known and...life has gone on.

Perfectly.

Without any pain.

Lafayette is still standing in front of a rocket, holding the torch in curiosity.  Squinting toward John as if waiting for John’s signal approval.  John can’t help but release all the air in his chest.  Shake his head fondly.   He’s a child.

Skipping down the stairs, John makes his way towards the fireworks.  He reaches up and cups the back of Lafayette’s head and jerks him down to a kiss.  “I got this one,” John decides, and Lafayette blinks at him. “Husband,” John finishes.  Loud enough for Aaron and Madison to hear.  

“Fucking finally,” Madison grumbles under his breath, and Lafayette’s face is beautiful when it’s confused.  John takes the torch from Lafayette, and together they light the rocket.  Watching it shoot off into the sky.

  
Beautiful.


	14. Satan II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Smallprotector's prompt request on tumblr.

The damn goat got it’s head stuck in the fence post.  Lafayette’s got an arm full of groceries, and he’s staring at Satan. Satan’s staring right back.  Beady little eyes glaring at him. Lafayette knows what happened.  The stupid thing ran at the fence post and slipped, got his head twisted one way, and it pushed through the rails.  Now he’s twisted the other way and his horns just won’t fit back in the reverse.  

He’s stuck.

Lafayette _laughs._ It’s entirely inappropriate, John would elbow him in the stomach.  Call him an asshole.  John is welcome to it.  Lafayette doesn’t care one bit about any of that.  He doesn’t care if John beats him bloody for laughing.  

He’s going to laugh until he runs out of breath.  Satan smashes his head back and forth and bleats so loudly that Lafayette’s tiny shrivelled heart almost feels bad for him. But it is too tiny and shrivelled for such things.  So he laughs again and again.

“You _deserve_ it you awful creature!” Lafayette tells him, walking toward the porch. He sets the groceries down and starts making his way back to the fence.  Satan strains desperately to get free, but he’s helpless. Useless.  “You absolutely deserve it!”

The goat strains desperately, and the bleating seems to get stronger.  Desperate.  Miserable mouth opening and grinding down tight.  Crouching down, Lafayette squints at the creature.  For once, Satan stays patiently still.  Staring up at him with huge gold and black eyes.

Lafayette manages to keep his laughter reduced to quiet chuckles.  He lifts his hands up and feels around the goat’s body.  Satan glared at him and stepped forward before slamming back.  Both of Lafayette’s hands crush against the wood, he shouts in pain and jerks backwards.

Hissing and pressing his palms to his mouth.  The backs of his hands are going to bruise badly. He hates this goat. He really hates this goat. He’s going to kill this goat and feed it to John and _fuck this goat._

Satan starts struggling again in earnest, jerking back and hitting his head again and again.  Horns getting battered and as he strikes them over and over in his panic. “Okay!” Lafayette growls.  “Okay! Stop that!”

Reaching out once more, he snatches Satan by the front legs and hauls him forward.  Holding firm with one hand, he uses the other to twist Satan’s head horizontal and shove.  It’s surprisingly effective, and the goat breaks free.  Fence finally releasing its captive.  

The goat scrambles.  Hooves striking the dirt.  His body shakes all over from horn to tail.  When he’s done, he shakes his head specifically.  Hoof digging into the ground before glaring at the fence.  He runs at it once more and smashes his head against the fence post.  

“You _crazy_ fool!” Lafayette hisses, stepping back as Satan does a victory run around his pen.  

He stops only once to look at Lafayette.  Squint his eyes like he might just make a different opinion about his savior.  “Oh go on then,” Lafayette snaps.  “You keep on hating me, and I’ll keep on hating you.”

The fence post gets smashed once more, and Lafayette curses Satan’s name a few more times before walking to the house.  

He collects his groceries and tosses the whole bag into the fridge to be sorted later.  Right now he just wants to hold a carton of ice-cream until his hands stop feeling like they’re broken.

John had better make it up to him when he comes home.


	15. Francine and Crows

To this day, John has no idea how Francine does it.  She stands outside, she holds out her hand, and crows come to her.  She could at least do what everyone else does and sing or whistle or bribe them with food.  But nope.  The birds fly to her like she’s Snow White.  Cawing and bouncing about on the ground.

They give her presents too.  Knick-knacks that float around the property and beyond.  Once they gave her the head of an old barbie doll, and she thanked them for it with such sincerity that they just kept doing it.  

Francine brought them food occasionally.  She liked to line up equal dishes of food and water for the crows, and they always responded with great enthusiasm.  

When it first started, Lafayette would watch their daughter.  Press his thumb to his lips to keep from saying anything, but clearly watching close for any sign of harm.  The birds never did anything to her though.  If anything, they seemed to be more interested in making her smile.

They’d hop about and caw back and forth at each other.  Follow her down the driveway to the road where she’d get on the bus to school.  John wanted to go with her, but she kept telling him that she was too old to be walked to the bus stop.  Besides, didn’t he have work to go to?

 _That_ stung.  Stung sharp and sweet, and John never knew what to say when Francine snapped at him like that.  Could only stand there and nod numbly as Francine marched to the bus stop.  Lafayette sighed that day, grumbled about needing to let off some steam.  All but ordered John to call in sick so they could do it together.  

John remembers the pain of Lafayette’s touch on his body.  Remembers, too, how he’d played possum and let Lafayette manage Francine once she came home.  Too embarrassed and unsettled to talk to his own daughter.

He never did walk her to the bus stop again after that.  Even though Lafayette calls him an idiot all the time. It doesn’t change the fact that _she_ didn’t want him there.  

In his place, went the crows.

They flew after her as she walked to the end of the road.  Waited with her before she got on the bus, then returned to their roost when they finished their duty.  John watches her go from his bedroom window.  Always keeping his eye on her progress.

“You know she’s going to get over this?” Lafayette asks John one morning.  Crows already seeing their daughter off to school when she wouldn’t accept them.  “She’s a kid.”

“How long did it take you to get over your parents?” John asks sweetly.  He knows how long.  He was there when it happened.  And it only happened because John and Francine had forced Lafayette’s hand.  

Forced him to open that door when he wanted it closed.  John doesn’t want to wait for Francine’s girlfriend to be the reason she calls home.  Wants to talk to him.  Wants to spend any time with him at all.  He just wants his daughter back.

Sighing, he steps away from the window.  Starts walking down the stairs.  He’s got a meeting he needs to go to.  Charts to read.  Books to get together.  Usually he can’t wait to go to work, but today he’s dragging his feet.  Exhausted and just done with the whole affair.

One of the crows flies over to the window.  “You missed her,” John tells it.  “She’s already on the bus.” But the crow starts flapping its wings and pecking at the window.  Holding up a house key.  Francine’s.  John takes it with shaking fingers.

Heart nearly stopping in his chest.  He runs out the door.  Down the driveway.  Runs as fast and as hard as he can.  Francine’s waiting at the bus stop, bent over her phone and tapping away at the screen.  She looks up when he appears, frowning at him.

Signing, _What you want?_

John stares at her.  Fingers still tight around the key.  He’d thought—

He’d thought that a crow was acting as an emergency alert system.   _Idiot._  

Holding out the key, he waits for her to take it.  She frowns at it for a long while, but eventually lifts her hand and plucks it from his grasp.  She brings her hands to lips. _Thank you._

“Francine…”

 _Frances,_ she corrects with very tight fingerspelling.  Right.  Frances.  Her name.  The one that she was given by her real parents.  Who loved her so much than he ever could.  John licks his lips.

“Frances...have a….have a good day at school.”  The bus starts driving up into view, and the crows call loudly.  Hopping between them. “I love you,” he tells her.

For a moment, he’s certain that she’s going to reject his offering.  She’s going to call him an idiot or tell him she’s too old for that.  But she doesn’t.  Just looks at him for a long while, and then nods her head.  “I love you, too,” she says slowly.  Her words are precious.  Tiny.  Blink and you miss them.  She never speaks.  Prefers to sign.

John’s heart stops.  Lafayette’s words echo in his head.   _She’ll get over it._

“Have a good day,” she mumbles.  She’s on the bus before he can respond.

But she raises her hand and waives goodbye.  So he does too.  The crows caw amongst themselves, and never before has John ever been so happy to witness a murder.  He’ll never think a bad thought about a crow again.

He heads back to the house and sets out extra feed. Tomorrow morning, they start bringing him presents too.


	16. Francine, Maman, Père, and Pierre

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bluemagicrose

Of everyone in Lafayette’s family, John’s closer to Pierre than to either of his parents.  Lafayette’s not entirely sure why.  It could stem off of his own difficulties with Maman and Père, or it could just be that Pierre is a genuinely difficult person to dislike.  

But John loves Pierre, and the feeling is mutual.  Pierre always seeks John out, reaching for him first before Lafayette or Francine.  Something that Lafayette thinks he’d feel offended over if he bothered to give a damn. 

He doesn’t.

Maman and Père always crowd Lafayette, asking questions and trying to make sure he was doing all right. They rush to Francine and sign with her and hug her if she’s up to it.  They are so  _ much,  _ and while they’re being  _ them,  _ Pierre slips to the side.  Pulls John in close.  Asks how he’s doing.

John’s not doing well. 

It’s been almost four months since he was last on a dive.  It’s strange to think of it like that.  Strange to think that he’s been home every single day.  And home early too.  But he’s done it.  Begging off rotations and changing shifts so that he could spend more time with his family.  

Francine had insisted he wasn’t home often enough, and so he’d made an honest effort to try to do that instead.  He had shakily told Lafayette he was trying to get a desk job.   _ “You’ll hate that…”  _ Lafayette had warned him.   _ “You’ll hate that, that’s not what you wanted.  You worked so hard to get this.” _

_ “She’s more important,”  _ John whispered back.  Even though his fingers had trembled for hours after.  He couldn’t seem to get to sleep properly anymore.  Home now feeling absurdly isolating to him in a way that didn’t make any sense to Lafayette. 

Their daughter wasn’t making it easier for him.  Despite being home all the time now, she slammed her door in his face.  Argued with him over simple things she never used to mind.  Told him she wasn’t a child anymore when he asked if she wanted to do something with him.  She’d go out and play with the crows or the horses or anything else on the farm, but if he went too she stopped.  Went back inside.  Telling him he ruined everything. 

He’s started to get dark circles under his eyes.  His temper’s starting to flare.  It feels like they’re riding an edge that they stopped riding a decade ago, and now it’s just coming right back to them.  John punched a wall the other day.  Left his hand a bloody mess. Only he would be unfortunate enough to find a stud in a fit of rage.  He broke his knuckles and gave himself an even more enforced land-time.  He can’t dive with a broken hand. 

Francine hadn’t even noticed. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything. 

Pierre takes John by the hand though.  The good one.  Leads him off to the side and the two of them start on a walk around the property.  John holding his arm out in case Pierre needed help or stumbled.  He was getting  _ old,  _ Lafayette thinks blankly.  Old and weary. 

“And how is our little angel?” Maman asks Francine. She’s smiling brightly and grabs onto Maman dragging her over to see her school work and her latest hobby.  She’s started researching chemistry lately.  Fascinated in how chemistry interacts with biology.  She’s already started choosing colleges, and is eager to learn more. 

A part of Lafayette, the cruel part, wonders just how successful of a doctor she’d be.  She can’t interact with patients—they’d likely not understand her.  And if she struggles to speak/respond to someone because she gets too caught in her own head, could she do well as a surgeon or a general practitioner anyway? 

The other part argues Francine can do anything she wants.  She’s brilliant.  If the world wants her bad enough, they’ll accept her. 

Lafayette just hopes the world wants her. 

“She seems well,” Père comments lightly.  

“John and her keep fighting,” Lafayette retorts.  He squeezes the bridge of his nose.  Rare is the day where the two of them will even sit at a table with each other.  

Inside, Lafayette can hear Maman applaud whatever it is Francine showed her.  Clearly excited about it.  Lafayette’s glad she’s happy.  He is.  He’s just.  Exhausted.  He has no idea why he’s been immune to Francine’s fits.  “I almost wish she  _ would  _ hate me too,” he mumbles. 

“Don’t say that,” Père sighs.  He steps closer.  So their arms touch and Lafayette can look at his father and inspect his wrinkles.  If  _ Pierre’s  _ gotten old, then Père’s downright ancient.  He’s got deep cut in folds in his cheeks, lines that stretch out along his brow.  His hair is all white, and his eyes sink some.  His skin’s papery-thin. 

Lafayette never thought of his parents as aging.  But they are.  They’re aging every day.  Still healthy and doing well, but getting old in a way that Lafayette is still startled to realize.  “When you left home, and Pierre was the only one you’d talk to...we held onto that lifeline.  It was the only way we knew you were okay.  We knew what was happening with you.  It hurt.  It hurt so much that you didn’t want  _ us,  _ but...but at least we could be a part of your life too.  Don’t take away John’s only support.  It’s what he needs.  Not you getting yelled at too.”

Damn him.  His father always knows what to say and how to say it.  Lafayette nods stiffly and ducks his head a little.  Closing his eyes as he tries to rationalize a good thought to say.  Nothing comes to mind.  He’s just so weary.  “He needs to get in the water,” Lafayette mutters.  John’s peace came from swimming.  It cleared his mind in a way that Lafayette couldn’t anymore. 

They tried.  They tried everything they could, but so long as Francine is in the house, John can’t—won’t—find any measure of peace.  The spiraling refrain of _ what if she needs me?  _ Has been building for well over a decade.  He’s incapable of letting it go.  There are walls built in his mind that keep him from finding any sense of satisfaction. 

He’s going to go insane.

“That,” Pére says smugly, “I can arrange.” 

***

John gave Lafayette a look, like he knew he’d done this on purpose, but there’s such naked longing coursing through his body that Lafayette cannot bring himself to care.  He wraps an arm around John’s body, presses his lips to the side of his head, and smiles at Francine.  “Go get your swimsuit and towel,” he instructs patiently.

Francine scrunches her nose at him, so he signs it to her as well, repeating himself easily.   _ Want show Mémé books.  _ She signs back.  Lafayette can feel John starting to wilt under his touch.  Settling in to accept this too.  After getting his hopes up. 

“Show her later,” Lafayette tells their daughter firmly.  “Get your things now, and we’ll stop at Frankie’s for custard on the way home.”  It’s bribery at its finest, and Francine falls for it hook, line, and sinker.  She doesn’t fight them on this, especially when Maman excitedly tells her how she wants to hear about the books in the car.  

Crisis temporarily averted, Lafayette kisses John’s head again.  Urges him to get his things together too.  John does.  He goes doubletime up the stairs and jerks open his dresser drawer.  Lafayette follows him, leans against the bedframe as he watches John thumb through clothing.  He’s looking in the wrong place if he’s trying to get his gear.  A thought that’s circumvented when Lafayette sees him pull out some swimming trunks.  “Wear your wetsuit,” Lafayette tells him.

“It’ll make her upset,” John replies stiffly. 

That’s hardly the point. “You’ll feel better in it.”  It’ll help set him at ease.  Give him a chance to breathe and feel like he’s back where he belongs.  John hasn’t touched the bloody thing since he took his hiatus.  And with his hand still a mess, he won’t be able to wear it officially for ages yet. But there’s still tension.  Hesitation.  John biting his lip and looking at the trunks like he’ll make due.  Enough. 

Kicking the door shut lightly with his heel, Lafayette walks to John.  Snatches him by the throat and guides him backward until his ass touches the wall.  Lafayette leans in close.  Caging him in as his fingers tighten around John’s slender neck.  “Wear the wetsuit,” Lafayette commands him. 

It shouldn’t be this easy to make John do something.  But the fight’s drawn out of him.  He’s so exhausted.  He’s crashing and burning, and his eyes flutter. His lips part. His shoulders slump and he leans bodily into Lafayette’s touch. 

_ Fuck.  _ He’s going down right now with all these people here, and they need to leave soon.  Gently letting up on John’s throat, Lafayette tries to squash the guilt growing in him as John whines.  Desperate for the contact.  His eyes flutter, staring up at Lafayette like he’s the most important person in the world. 

“You’re beautiful,” Lafayette tells him.  He kisses John’s face, his neck, his  hands.  He traces his lips over John’s bruised knuckles.  “Do you want this later?” he asks.  Pressing the time a touch so John can steady himself without making things worse.  

John nods.  Mouth parted and dreamy stare still present.  He’ll convince his parents they’ll need to take two separate cars.  Have them take Francine to dinner, so that he can get John alone at the house.  It’ll be good.  Just the two of them.  Lafayette can build John up and bring him down, and caress him the whole while. 

Fuck.  _ He  _ needs it too.  It’s burning beneath Lafayette’s skin.  This desire to just get John blissed out and perfect.  He wants to tie him in place and listen as he cries for him.  Wants to feel John buck and gasp and whine deep in his throat.

Damn it all.

“Tonight,” Lafayette promises.  “Tonight.”  John still stares at him.  Only half present.  “Wear the wetsuit.” 

He does.

***

The beach is gorgeous this time of year.  Tourists and locals converge, and it’s a glorious sight.  Water splashes up over the sand and Maman squeals delightfully, taking Francine by hand and hurrying forward. It leaves the men to set up the umbrella and the towels and the cooler filled with sandwiches and drinks.

Francine doesn’t  _ mind  _ swimming, but she usually prefers to sit and inspect the crabs or find sand dollars.  She likes the sand and the animals she can find, and Lafayette gets the sunscreen ready because she’s going to get impatient with the water very quickly and will need it soon enough.

John’s practically vibrating he’s shaking so hard.  Staring at the water like it’s the only thing in the world that could make him feel better.  It probably is.  “Go,” Lafayette urges.  “We’ve got this.” 

John nods his head, and he goes.  He goes to Francine and Maman and asks if he could join them.  Maman welcomes him as usual, Francine tells him she’s playing with Maman right now.  The implication clear.  John’s smile is brittle, but he nods. Shuffles awkwardly as he looks back to the ocean.  Clearly torn. 

“We’ve got this,” Pierre tells Lafayette.  “Honest.”  It’s all he needed to hear. 

Making a beeline to his husband, Lafayette all but tackles him into the next swell of the ocean.  A small wave had come up and down they went.  John yelping just before they slammed through the water.  

They break the surface soon enough, and John’s grin is  _ pure.  _  He laughs with such delight and he splashes Lafayette with a great sweep of his hand.  He ducks under the water and he finds Lafayette’s legs easily, jerking him over with a strong twisting motion.  Lafayette flops backwards, kicking and gargling. 

Salt water in his eyes.  On his skin.  John’s laughing at him, though.  Laughing and pushing.  They play fight now because it’s a warm up for things to come, and John’s kingdom is this water.  He moves faster than Lafayette ever could.  He twists with the flow of the ocean.  Seems to know the exact moment the water rises too much, and he lets the waves overcome him. 

There’s beauty in this partnership.  Beauty in how perfectly attuned to the ocean John is.  As though he’s always been a part of it.  Poseidon’s lost son, cursed to live a life on land when his heart rests beneath the waves. 

John had never swum in the ocean before when they first met.  Barely even knew how to swim to begin with.  But once he learned...it was as if he’d never be the same.  He stares up at Lafayette with wide eyes full of love, and Lafayette could see this look on his face until the end of time. “You are so beautiful,” Lafayette murmurs.

It makes him blush. 

Arms and legs wrapped around Lafayette’s body, water slapping against their sides, John’s more at peace now than he’s been in months.  It’s perfect.  

And that’s when Francine comes up.  Quietly.  Nervously.  She shifts about after she touches John’s arm to get his attention.   _ Can I…?  _ She signs.  John nods.  Nods fast and quick and he detaches from Lafayette and he hesitantly splashes his daughter a little. 

She flinches at first, but then she gets an expression of wicked delight slaps a great splash right back.  John lets it him clear in the face and his heart soars.  Laughing and teasing and splashing.  John swims circles around his daughter and she tries to catch him.  Tries to push him under. 

He doesn’t let her do it all the time, but Lafayette knows he could outswim Francine if he wanted to.  He lets her get him.  Lets her climb onto him like a monkey and squirm in the ocean as she tries to fight him.  

Lafayette was wrong. 

This is peace. 

He just hopes it lasts. 


	17. Aaron and the Chickens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bluemagicrose and anon

Lafayette has absolutely no idea what to do with the two cages that Aaron is thrusting into his arms.  

None. 

“John’s not home,” he tries to excuse.  The excuse doesn’t work. Aaron’s expression is so deliriously determined that Lafayette thinks he’s never going to be able to convince him one way or another.  

“Look, I found these chickens—”

“—How does one  _ find  _ chickens?” Lafayette cuts in.  He’s still trying to avoid actually taking them.  They’ve already got two dogs, a cow, three horses, a renegade goat, and a snapping turtle in the pond out back.  There are countless other farm animals that Lafayette is trying to ignore but still ends up putting feed out for, and this was  _ not  _ meant to be his life.

“They were the neighbor’s,” Aaron seethes.  He’s not taking no for an answer.  He shoves one of the cages viciously into Lafayette’s chest, and Lafayette’s hands go up.  Wrap around it and hold it in shock.  

He doesn’t think he’s seen Aaron look this upset in a long while.  Not since...the break up? Yes. That seems about right.  The aftermath of the break up when Aaron decided to tell him what an asshole he’d been.  He looks just as furious now as then, and Lafayette has no idea what to do with that knowledge. “Were?” he asks weakly.

“Look at them,  _ Gil. _ ” 

Gil looks. 

The chickens are torn and tattered, feathers missing and talons bumpy where they shouldn’t be.  They sit awkwardly in their cages, and  _ God damn it.  _ They’re probably here for life.  John won’t send them away. They’ll need to call 4H and the Scouts again and see if they have any kids who want to volunteer.  

_ Fuck my life,  _ Lafayette sighs.  Squinting down at the chickens he looks back up at Aaron.  “Did you... _ steal  _ these?” he asks slowly. Aaron tilts his chin up in the air and doesn’t dignify that with a response.  “Oh,  _ Mon Dieu _ —you  _ did.”  _

“Shut up, Gilbert.  Are you taking them or not?” 

“Not,” Lafayette replies.  It’s a lie.  “I need your assistance in building a coop.”  There’s bound to be something on google for that.  For now, he sets his chicken down on the porch and urges Aaron to do the same. Beckoning him in the house to help him look, Lafayette can’t help but goad the other man.  “Tell me, were you wearing all black? With face paint?” He’s not giving this up for a long time coming. 

Aaron just seethes, and keeps his mouth shut. 

***

Strangely enough, the construction of the coop doesn't take long.  They get the lumber from Lowe’s and the chicken wire there as well.  A few hammers and some nail guns, and they’re good to go.  Aaron is precise and methodical in his constructions, and Lafayette has had enough practice around the farm to set it up. 

Lafayette’s  _ certain  _ Aaron would prefer working in amicable silence, but if Aaron’s going to curse him with chickens, then Lafayette’s going to curse him with conversation.  He chatters away, bright and excited.  Explaining all about the new photos that he’s been taking, and the dance classes. 

There’s a young girl with social anxiety who’s been coming to his therapy sessions, and she’s just informed him she’s going to try out for the school play.  He and John are going to see her perform when the play comes out. 

“Why do you do this?” Aaron asks as he starts nailing in the chicken wire.  Lafayette pauses.  Not sure he understands the transition.  

Aaron’s asked that before.  Several times in fact.  But the answer doesn’t change.  “Because it makes John happy.” 

“Happy that you take care of this place while he’s off...doing—”

“What he loves?” Aaron isn’t trying to be rude.  He’s not even trying to hurt Lafayette’s feelings.  He just doesn’t understand.  “It makes him happy,” Lafayette replies.  “I’m doing the job I always wanted, he’s doing the job he always wanted, and when we come home—this is the place that makes him happy.  I don’t care where I live.  I just want him to be happy.” 

Aaron nods slowly.  “And what about you?  Are you happy?” 

That answer is easy.  “I wish he were home more, but I go with him now on dives.  When they are more than three days—I go with him. We’re working it out, and yes Aaron.  I am happy.”  It’s life.  There are ups and downs, bad days and good days. 

But Lafayette can wholeheartedly say the good outweighs the bad. And in any case, “I have you to visit me when I am lonely.” 

Aaron snorts and strikes another nail into the coop. 

“You certainly do.” 


	18. France

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anon

Lafayette hasn’t been back to France since he and John got back together.  It feels strange, showing up now with John at his side.  When he’d gone to return to America, he’d had no idea what sort of life he was going to end up with.  Had no idea if John and he were going to be able to work it out.

They did.

And then.  Years just slipped by.

“You happy to be back?” John asks.  Lafayette shrugs.  It’s... _weird._  It’s like a dream almost.  He remembers striding through this airport, talking to himself as he tried to come up with the right speech to say.

As he struggled to put words to what he felt.   _I’m not mad you didn’t want to marry me, I just wish you hadn’t lied._  He’d even tried out his speech on an unsuspecting barista.  The girl stared at him with eyes wide, holding out his coffee in horror as he tried to get it all out. She’d wished him luck, and then hastily ran to the other side of the counter.

She is not, he notes, still working at the airport cafe when they walk by.  

John’s hand is warm in his.  His body loose and light.  He seems re-energized in a way that he hasn’t been in a long while.  Lafayette’s glad.  There’s the shop he’d spent hours staring at books he never pulled off the shelves.

That’s where he bought a sandwich he never ate.

His parents picked him up in this parking lot, just as they are now.  Smiling and waving.  Gathering him up in a hug.  Only now they hug John too.  So excited for him to be here.

They get in the car, and it’s the same car as they had before.  It’s the same first question– _”How have you been?”_

Only the answers are different now.  It’s not, John and I broke up.  It’s, John and I got married.

Père slams on the breaks just like he had before.  They’re nearly sideswiped by a passing vehicle, and John throws his hands out to catch himself.  Lafayette pulls him back. “What?” they asked, then and now.

“Surprise?” John offers.

There’s the same tightening of their jaws.  The same clenching of fingers around the steering wheel.  The same shared glances.  The same disappointment.

Lafayette sighs and stretches out his legs.

They get a lecture, same as he got before, on family and the importance of staying together, as they drive down the same familiar roads to a house that never changed.  “We figured we’d redo the ceremony so you could ‘attend,’” Lafayette tells them after they’ve finished saying their piece.

Not once did they offer congratulations. Too caught up in their own self-interests and disappointment that they had never been  invited to the fictitious event that hadn't occurred.  There was no romance involved with signing a piece of paper. They signed it in front of a clerk, and Lafayette spent the next ten hours calming John down from an anxiety attack that made him want to renege on the whole deal.

That, Lafayette suspects, would not have gone over well.

But his parents change their tune immediately.  All excitement and rapid talking.  John rolls his eyes and Lafayette squeezes his hand.  They get out of the car before his parents can get too far on a roll, and run inside the house.  “This is my childhood room,” Lafayette introduces.

He’d come in here the last time, and he’d sat on his bed and he’d stared at his wall for hours.  He’d thought about turning on his phone.  Checking his email.  Lookin on facebook.  Doing something so he could see what was happening in America.  He didn’t.

Instead, he sat there.  He stared.  The tried to work out what he did wrong.

John flops on the bed. Bouncing a little as he tilts his head to look at Lafayette.   _“Do you want to defile me, husband?”_ he asks filthily, French smooth on his tongue.  

That answer is always yes.

And Lafayette fucks him until the tears falling on the pillow this time, are from sweet sweet pleasure, and not heartbroken remorse.

***

John looks stunning in the navy blue suit Maman picked out for him.  Lafayette feels strange in all white.  But he can’t help but enjoy the way John’s eyes look him up and down.  Enjoy how John’s body slides against him.  How when they repeat their vows in French and in France, it feels like something settling home.

Unlike before, John’s calm post wedding.  LIkely, because nothing has changed.  They were married before.  They weren’t _remarrying_ now.  It was just a show and tell for the parents.  Just a game of make believe.

They dance on command, teasing and light hearted.  They trade kisses with each other, then far more polite kisses with Maman, Pèrè, and Pierre.  Pierre’s looking so tired these days.  Worn out and sick.  He’s coughing more, and he rubs at his chest like it’s aching him all the time.  He still dances once with Lafayette, and once with John.  Before spending the rest of the evening sipping vitamin water like it’s capable of fixing what’s wrong.

“We probably won’t see him again,” Lafayette murmurs to John.  

“He’s been sick before, and he’s always shook it,” John murmurs back.  But even John seems to know that this time is different.  Pierre’s _tired._  He doesn’t want to keep fighting, and that’s something that Lafayette has always waited to see.

The moment when it becomes too much.  

Pierre’s almost sixty years old. He’s lucky he made it this long.

They sit with him while the party goes on without him.  Laughing and talking about fond memories as he smiles at them both.  This was for Pierre as much as it was for them.  John rolled his eyes when Lafayette had said they didn’t need to tell his parents.  Had made a very convincing argument that even if Lafayette wanted to do that to _them,_ it wasn’t fair to Pierre.

He deserves this.

He deserves a lot more than this.

***

John and Lafayette wander the grounds together, hand in hand.  Lafayette shows John the trees he used to climb.  He shows John the roof that still has a boomerang stuck on it.  He shows John where he first met Hercules and how.

There are dozens of memories in the place, and Lafayette wants to share them all.  

John doesn’t ogle the mansion. He doesn’t comment on the grounds.  He just smiles at Lafayette.  Nods his head.  Looks at him like he’s the world.  Lafayette squeezes his hand, and John squeezes back.

“Is it strange being home?” John asks him.

“France isn’t my home,” Lafayette tells him.  “My home’s with you.”

John nods his head slowly, consideringly, then sighs.  “You’re not in your home _nearly_ often enough.”

He ends the comment with a demanding kiss.  A knee pressed between Lafayette’s legs, then a push against his chest.  John starts running through the grounds, and Lafayette gives chace.

Some things might be different, but some things remain the same.


	19. Pippin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Jennifer
> 
> Pippin's borrowed from Ghost in the Shell.

The duck is one of those small things with gangly legs and brown feathers.  It isn’t a very successful diver, and even if it was, there’s not much fish in their pond.  John watches it sometimes when he has a moment to sit and think.  He’ll wander about the farm, and he’ll see the duck in the pond.  Trying to look for food that’s not there.  Sometimes agitating the snapping turtle in the process. 

John researches bird food for his particular breed, and picks up a package of it on his way home.  He trolls around the supermarket afterward looking for fixings for dinner as well.  Squinting at the vegetables and idly thinking about making a garden. 

No. Too much work.  He doesn’t want a garden. 

Snatching some greens and tomatoes, he heads to the counter and pays for it all.  “More additions to the farm?” Susan asks him.  She’s been checking out his groceries since they moved.  He shrugs.  

“Don’t know yet.” There’s no telling if the duck will even stay.  He’s wished well anyway, and he takes his supplies and starts driving back to the house. 

Lafayette’s already got dinner on when he comes in, and John hands him the extra supplies he’d wanted. “What that?” Lafayette asks, pointing to the extra bag.  

“It’s for the duck.” 

His partner snorts.  Rolling his eyes and continuing to chop.  “It’s just...look, Laf, he’s hungry.  I just…” Don’t like it when things starve.  It bothers him.  It makes him uncomfortable. 

They have the money to afford this now.  It should be something they can do.  A way to give back to the world around them that he never could take advantage of when he was younger.  

“I know,” Lafayette soothes.  He’s not mad.  “You’re Snow White.” It’s not the first time John’s been called that.  And after all this time, it just makes him roll his eyes. 

He settles by the counter and steals some green pepper strips.  Munching on them as Lafayette continues to get the salad ready.  The juice is spicy sweet on his tongue.  Delicious and perfect.  It’s a good time of year for green peppers.  

Looking outside, John can just catch sight of the duck trying its luck again.  Edgar is just visible on the shoreline, and he’s going to try killing the duck if it keeps being so stupid.  “Be right back.” 

“Don’t forget to eat yourself,” Lafayette tells him. The comment makes him hesitate.  Pause in the kitchen and bite his bottom lip.  

He doesn’t  _ mean  _ to forget.  Even after all this time.  And he goes through phases of forgetting and then remembering too often.  He’s always riding an arc of over and undereating.  It all balances out in the end, but he knows it’s not healthy.  Knows he should at least  _ try  _ doing better. “Remind me…?” he asks quietly.  

Lafayette glances toward him.  Nods.  “Go feed your duck.” 

The duck, John decides after it’s crawled into his lap to snap treat from his fingers, is named Pippin. 

And so long as he doesn’t get in the way of Edgar’s mouth, he can stay. 


End file.
